Awful Truth
by silveririses
Summary: She must have just gotten out of surgery. They only question was: why was she in a muggle hospital? One-shot. DM/HG. Sequel to Knight Bus.


. . .

Somebody opened the blinds and a violent white light threatened to creep under Hermione's eyelids. She squeezed them shut and groaned a desperate plea. But there was no sanctuary.

Someone touched her hand and she recoiled from its warmth. She didn't dare yet open her eyelids although her pupils moved frantically under their cover. All she saw was red. Someone stepped in front of the light and her sight went dark once more.

While she was distracted, someone managed to slip something into her hand. She sat up with a start. Finally, she opened her eyes.

The room was bare.

She looked inside her closed fist. There was a small red pill.

Hermione blinked.

Without a second thought, she popped the medicine in her mouth and looked around for a glass of water. There was none. She swallowed the pill with her saliva. It forced its way down her throat.

Hermione got down from her white cot. With one hand dragging the IV, she rolled around the cot and opened the door with difficulty. She rolled all the way to the nurse's station before anyone noticed her.

The girl at the counter looked up. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing out of bed?!"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. She didn't like the girl's tone. "Do you guys have any water around here?"

"Yes, yes. But you should be in _bed_!" The girl ushered Hermione back from where she had just come and through the door she just battled. She found herself being tucked into the same cot she spent god-knows-how-long in.

Hermione frowned, "That's all very well and good but can I have some water?" The girl looked surprised and Hermione had to repeat herself.

"Water."

A look of recognition floated across the nurse's face. Hermione smiled and blinked. When she had opened her eyes, there was a cup on the dresser next to the cot and the nurse was gone.

Hermione sighed and decided she needed some sleep.

. . .

When she woke again, the blinds were shut and, judging by the earsplitting silence, it was nightfall.

Hermione carefully inspected the bandages on her abdomen. She must have just gotten out of surgery. They only question was: why was she in a _muggle_ hospital?

And then Hermione remembered how she got here.

The thought brought her to her feet. She had never actually seen Draco _die_… so maybe he was still alive. That small hope sparked a fire in her once dead heart. Maybe she had something to live for.

She unplugged herself from her IV. When she's admitted to St. Mungo's, she won't need it anyway. There probably won't even be a scar to remind her of past painful events. For some reason, this saddened her.

She tiptoed to her door and looked into the small window it held. From here she could see the nurse's station. It was empty.

Her heart slightly rejoicing, Hermione opened her door and walked though it, careful not to make a sound. The door silently closed behind her.

She wandered through the hallways looking for some indication—

Her eyes stopped at a room that was labeled _Malfoy, Draco_.

Hermione sucked in a breath and swung open the door. This was it.

. . .

The room was as dark as hers was when she had left it. She chanced a glance at the cot. Its sheets were stretched out over… someone's… head.

Hermione's breath was knocked out of her and she felt herself grow faint. She couldn't help but wonder if he was _already_ dead.

However, the tears stuck in her throat. She had to make sure before she submitted herself to grieving. She inched towards the cot, which smelled awfully funny now that she thought about it. Her hand reached out to touch the white sheet.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Hermione screamed as a hand reached out from under the covers and grabbed Hermione's wrist.

It was ice cold.

Hermione heard a laugh and before she could process anything else, Draco was getting out from under the covers. Hermione didn't have time to contemplate the image before her.

. . .

"What took you so long? They healed me last week." Draco winked, "I've been waiting for you ever since."

Hermione stared at him like she was crazy. "How. Are you. Still. ALIVE?!"

Draco didn't answer immediately.

Hermione reached out again to touch him. She had to make sure that this was real. That _he_ was real.

Sure enough, his hand was there. Freezing, yes, but there.

Hermione looked up at him, suspicious. "How did they heal you so fast? They said that even healing me would be a stretch—"

"Well," Draco smirked, "I had a bit of help. The first person to see me was an intern who used, let's say, very _unconventional_ methods."

Hermione was taken aback. "You mean there was a Healer? Here?"

Draco nodded. "But unfortunately, by the time he could attend to you, the muggles had seen the extent to your wounds and the whole thing would have been very hard to cover up."

Hermione nodded to herself from within a daze, but there was something that still nagged at her. "When I looked back at the Knight Bus, it had lost all of its magical properties. It just looked like any other muggle bus. What happened?"

"Oh, yes. The accident was all over the news and, in all the chaos, it wouldn't do for the muggles to find out that there are wizards living amongst them. It would freak them out. So the ministry had to come in and change the circumstances."

"So they _abandoned_ us?" Hermione was outraged.

Draco's tone had a hint of reproach. "We healed."

"We could have died!"

"But we DIDN'T." Draco crossed his arms and stared at her.

Hermione frowned but didn't say anything.

. . .

Hermione was trying to decide whether she was thankful Draco was alive or not when she heard the sound of footsteps running down the hall. At first, they seemed insignificant and Hermione could successfully ignore them.

But when they came closer, the gnawing feeling grew and she knew that they had come for her.

A pair of arms grabbed her from behind. She thrashed wildly and tried to fight them off but they were too strong. They ignored Draco, who watched silently, huddled in a corner.

Hermione felt a sharp prick on her hip and the world swayed.

They were sedating her.

In all her confusion, Hermione couldn't help but wonder why Draco didn't dare move.

Hermione felt her head grow woozy and her eyelids grow heavy. She managed to open them one last time and found that the room seemed darker and Draco was gone.

Just before she passed out, she could make out the voice of the girl at the nurse's station.

The girl seemed like she was on the verge of hysterics but Hermione felt calmer than ever before. She listened dispassionately to the girl's cry of frustration.

"Why did she pull out her IV?!"

Hermione felt the strange urge to do something. Although her knees were bent, her head sagging towards the floor, and the only thing holding her arms up were… _someone else's_ arms, Hermione had enough energy to raise her hand and flip the girl off.

Hermione watched, through the veil of her own hair covering her face, as the girl shrieked in horror.

The sight made her grin in happiness.

. . .

A set of arms pulled her off of her feet, off of the ground, and plopped her onto the cot. Hermione took no notice of this and hummed a song in her head.

Suddenly, she sat straight up.

Where was Draco?

The arms roughly pushed her down and Hermione felt something tug at her foot. She lifted her head as far as it would go and looked down at her foot. They were binding her to the bed.

Hermione screamed as her arms were also buckled down. She lifted her upper body off of the cot and tried to bite off of the ropes that held her tightly in place. One of the arms got in the way. She bit at it viciously.

Hermione saw the blood drip onto her white sheets before she heard the yell of fright. She smiled. At least she had hurt it.

Before she knew it, an elbow was rapidly approaching her face, and with blunt force, she was knocked down. She tried frantically to move her hands and feet but they were chained in place.

She succumbed to Its will.

Hermione felt the floor and it rolled underneath her. She could identify each and every one of its scars and scratches. She had never felt as close to anything before.

Someone loosened her shackles and she lost the connection. Out of a trance, she saw herself. She was now being led down a narrow hallway by _two_ pairs of arms.

The opened a white door, gave her white clothes, and locked her in a white room.

She was alone.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream. The room was sound proof.

. . .

Hermione gave small grunt before slamming into the wall. Another attempt failed. It was a good thing that this room was cushioned. Otherwise, Hermione would have broken her shoulder by now.

But who cares?

Being stuck in this room… she didn't even need her shoulder anyway.

It wouldn't be that big of a loss.

Hermione leaned against the wall and looked towards the little window on her door.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a shadow and the hand around her heart squeezed mercilessly.

It was Draco.

He walked straight passed her door. Hermione opened her mouth to call him but her must have sensed something because he stopped in his tracks, backed up, and looked straight at her.

"You have a wand!" Hermione pointed excitedly to the stick in his hand.

Draco grinned and nodded.

"Then let me out!"

Draco grinned and shook his head.

Hermione glared at him. "Why the _hell_ not?"

Draco just looked at her for a moment and then walked away.

Hermione was outraged to say the least. She yelled after him but, after a while, distance became the limiting factor and she couldn't see him from her little window.

He was out of reach.

. . .

Hermione had regular sessions with some doctor, of which she could never clearly remember his face or his name… it was something long, though. She remembered that.

In her head, she referred to him as Dr. Zigman Froid.

Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

This was a little something like how all of their sessions went:

Hermione: Where are you keeping Malfoy?

_Cue scene. Hermione is sitting in THE chair across from Froid. They are in his office._

Froid: Draco is dead. Like I've told you.

Hermione: You're lying. I don't know why, but you're lying. _Pauses._ I saw him. He was alive. _Mutters to herself._ He could have faked his own death and escaped. Sounds like something he would do. _There is bitterness in her tone._

Froid: And, pray tell, how would he fake his death? We have his body in the morgue. You've visited there. You've seen it.

Hermione: _Turns to Froid sharply. _Do you promise not to tell anyone? _Laughs. _Screw it. You already think I'm crazy. _With a movement of the finger, Hermione gestures him closer. Froid leans in. Hermione flicks him on the nose, laughs loudly to herself, and leans back in her seat._ Magic. You can do anything with magic.

Froid: _Talks monotonously (they've gone over this too many times to count). _There is no such thing as magic. There is no such thing as witches and wizards… and there is no such thing as Voldemort! _Hermione shudders involuntarily._

Hermione: That's what the Ministry WANTS you to think. _Froid sighs and excuses Hermione._

_End scene._

Hermione never realized how close-minded and stubborn muggles could be.

It was only amusing the first time.

. . .

Did he leave her behind?

Did Draco really fake his own death and then leave her to this asylum?

Hermione shook her head absently. He had voluntarily decided to give up his life for her. _Once._

All the negative thoughts that have been haunting her for the past god-knows-how-many-days came together like a silver bullet and threatened to oppress her. She continued to shake her head.

Did he care?

Her hands scrambled to cover her ears. She shook her head, waiting as the deafening roar dissolved into one word.

_No._

. . .

Hermione pulled and pulled her arms. But she couldn't get comfortable. And she couldn't get out of the straightjacket.

It was no use. She was stuck.

Hermione watched the lights flicker outside of her little room.

There had been no sign of Draco since that first day. Hermione almost started to believe that Dr. Zigman Froid was right.

Maybe there was no magic.

. . .

The lock clicked.

Hermione's eyes opened at once. It was a sound that she always waited for. By now, her ears were attuned to it.

But something made her uneasy. The timing was wrong.

Hermione grabbed the doorknob, afraid the door would click shut as soon as it realized it wasn't supposed to be open.

She slowly turned the handle. It squeaked as if it was the first time being used.

Hermione let go of it like she had touched hot iron.

This is her chance.

She could escape.

But what is out there? What is she escaping _to_?

. . .

As much as Hermione ran, it seemed like she was staying in the same place and the walls were just moving all around her.

Her footfalls were so soft that they made no sound on the polished floor. Does she even exist?

A red light hung over a marked EXIT.

Maybe this was the way out…

. . .

She felt grass under her feet. Each blade was as sharp as its name and each step was like a stab to her foot.

She looked up, eager to see the sun. She covered her eyes with her hands as it blinded her. Somehow she made it to the sidewalk.

The light had turned red. DO NOT WALK.

Hermione waited. She blinked.

Draco was standing on the other side of the street. He smirked.

Suddenly, Hermione understood. He had let her out. He had set her free.

The light turned white. WALK.

Time seemed like it had stopped with every step she took across the street. Nothing else was moving. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes off of him.

A honk brought her back to earth.

She turned her head just in time to see the triple-decker bus before it rammed into her.

. . .

Hermione found herself on the ground (somewhere).

She had the (familiar) feeling of not being completely whole.

She felt her heart race. She panicked. Something was wrong.

She touched the spot on her abdomen and brought her fingers to her face. They were dripping in blood.

She looked down at the wound. It didn't _look_ like it had recently been healed.

Hermione didn't believe it.

Where was she?

. . .

Hermione felt her energy drain from her body.

She couldn't get up. She turned her head to the side, looking for Draco. All she saw was a wooden stick a few inches from her grasp.

She turned her head again, facing up, towards the sky.

As Hermione struggled to keep her grip on consciousness, she could only think of one thing.

What color was the bus?

. . .

Hermione knew then what she should have known before: hope disappoints.

The last thing she saw was Draco looking down at her, in his hospital gown, smiling.

She closed her eyes and saw red.

. . .


End file.
